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ចំណងជើងអង្កត់ធ្នូ
1
Fog Over Belfast
I Rose With The Dawn On A Gray Belfast Morning The Fog Wrapped The Terraces Tight. The Pavements Were Wet And The Church Bells Were Warning But No One Was Out In The Light. The Shops Stayed On Shutter
2
Smoke In The Rain
The Rain Fell Soft On The Turf Stack Wall Where My Grandfather Would Stand. With A Match Held Low And A Story Told Of This Battered Stubborn Land. He Spoke Of Ghosts In The Risin Smoke Of Footsteps In